


Snow in Spring

by bluetoast



Series: Fae Verse [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Oblivious Sam, Pregnant Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-14
Updated: 2014-04-14
Packaged: 2018-01-19 07:44:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1461376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluetoast/pseuds/bluetoast
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John's finally realized Dean's missing. Sam has his own ideas about where his brother went. Meanwhile, Dean and Orrick celebrate the birth of their little girl. However, in another part of the Fae Realm, Prince Kelsen has decided the simplest way to get his sister to leave him alone about getting married is to simply recapture the father of his child - Dean Winchester.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snow in Spring

John did not officially become worried about his eldest until May. He knew he should be ashamed of himself for taking nearly a year to realize that maybe, just maybe, something was wrong. The signs all pointed to Dean just taking off as Sam had. The Impala was gone and no one had seen or heard from him in all that time. Maybe it was the trail for the demon going cold that pissed him off that kept him from noticing. By the time July arrived and there was still no word from Dean, John knew that taking off or not, Dean would never cut off contact completely. He'd check in – he'd call Pastor Jim or Caleb. Neither of them had spoken to him since last August. John knew that his boy had taken off for a solo hunt in Nebraska and gotten rid of whatever was causing the boys to vanish. After that, the trail just ended, as if the kid had just disappeared off the face of the Earth. With the Impala gone and as well as all of Dean's worldly possessions that weren't in the storage locker in Albany, John had no clue of even where to start looking. Except to return to the county in Nebraska where Dean had last been seen and start asking questions. By the time John realized that, it was August again. 

Nebraska in August was the complete opposite of its other half of the year twin, February. Hot, humid, muggy and you could find yourself wondering how the hell crops managed to thrive in this area. John knew that February was cruel with snow and Arctic winds. For now, however, he faced a merciless summer with a sky that was barely blue and cloudless. The town John found himself seemed to be completely lost in time, in more ways than one. If it weren't for the calender hanging behind the register of the five-and-ten (he couldn't believe the town had one of those still open) John would swear he'd traveled back in time to the early nineteen seventies. A town so far off the Interstate should be like the rest of the towns he'd seen in backwater roads. A diner, a bank, a few bars and maybe a supermarket along with a handful of gas stations. 

This town was completely the opposite. It was thriving and that alone set off alarm bells in John's head. He picked up the county paper from the rack in front of the diner before stepping inside. The air-conditioner felt good as he slid into a booth and glanced at the headline, something about the state fair as the waitress came over and set down a glass of water. “Afternoon.”

“Afternoon.” John glanced at her name-tag. “Megan.”

She smiled. “Today's blue plate special is meat loaf, with mashed potatoes and gravy, along with a vegetable medley. Our pies for today are blueberry, blackberry and peach.” 

“Special sounds good.” John was more interested in looking around in the paper than anything. He was finished with his meal and halfway through the paper when he got the first hint of something that might explain the oddness of the town.

The one year anniversary of the disappearance of a boy named Tucker Peterson was being marked tomorrow. The boy had vanished somewhere between a family corn field and the house. Tucker was the first of nine people who went missing over a seven week period last summer. John scanned the listed name and his eyes blinked in surprise at the last name on the list. _Thomas Chamberlain_ – followed by the comment that Chamberlain wasn't a resident of the county, but had vanished without a trace all the same. Thomas Chamberlain was the last name that John knew was on one of Dean's fake credit cards. He used to have a Chamberlain one himself, first name Joshua. Either Dean paid cash for his motel room, or someone had forgiven the bill. The motel was going to be John's next stop.

*

August. It didn't matter where you were in the country, Sam figured August had to be the most miserable month ever, even worse than February, which in some areas could be moderately decent. August was just all around cruel. It was hot and airless, and even here in Palo Alto, where you'd think there would be a nice Pacific breeze, it was steamy and just walking to the mailbox could make you sweat bullets. He groaned and fell back on his bed. Today was the one year anniversary of him leaving the hunting world. If it wasn't so damn humid, he might feel like celebrating. An entire year of being normal – and neither dad or Dean had come along and wrecked it for him. Then again, Dean had gotten out of hunting too, a few weeks after he did. That was what he surmised – Pastor Jim had called him last September to see if he'd heard from Dean. Sam hadn't and wasn't too concerned at the time.

Whatever had been making those people vanish in Nebraska had stopped, so obviously Dean took care of it and moved on. He could see it clearly in his mind. Dean wanted out. Dean had the Impala. He'd sell most of the guns in the trunk, keeping things like the sawed off, a pistol or two, and a few knives. The rest he'd sell, get a good wad of cash and settle down somewhere - or keep up the drifter gig, something. He'd keep the Impala, of course. His brother would sooner chop off his own legs than sell that damn car.

Sam checked in with Pastor Jim around once a month. He was never going to hunt again, that was for certain, but he still wanted to at least get word to someone he was doing all right. It'd taken him a few months to realize that if Dean had gone normal, then they could try and at least have a weekend together every now and then. Holidays, family shit that he'd been wanting for years and well, with dad being the asshole he was, they never got. Thanksgiving dinner shouldn't come from a cardboard box and tray or a bucket of Kentucky Fried. Last year he's scored an invite to his roommate Brady's home. For Christmas, Sam had holed up with a bunch of international students in one of the fraternity houses and had a buffet of multicultural traditional holiday fare. A really cute girl from Romania had made some incredible potato pancakes that, if she'd not already had a boyfriend, Sam would have proposed marriage for. Not that the Italian girl's pasta hadn't been worthy of such admiration either. In short? It'd been the best Christmas ever and Sam was hoping for a repeat this December. He was going to try his hand at making actual dressing for the event and not just Stove Top. The phone ringing brought Sam back to reality and he picked it up without looking at the caller ID and answered it.

“Hello?”

“Sam? Sam is that you?” 

Sam nearly hung up on his father. “I'm not coming back, dad. I don't want to go into this...”

“Your brother is missing.”

“He's not missing, dad. He took off. He's off being normal and hurray for him. Now just let me get back to living my own...”

“He's not off being normal, Samuel Eric, something took him.”

“You're drunk.” Sam hung up the phone and dropped it on the floor. “Dean doesn't get caught, asshole.” When the phone started to ring again, he flat out ignored it. 

***

Orrick had been meaning for months to move his beloved out of a guest room and into his and he couldn't even think of why he was delaying the matter. He knew that Dean was comfortable where he was and had never brought it up, but then again, making a rosebush grow from a rock was easier than getting Dean to admit something was bothering him. So, Orrick spent more nights sleeping next to Dean than he did in his own bed – the few times he had, he'd felt horribly alone in the vast master bed chamber. He listened to the snow spattering against the glass of the doors across the room, sighing softly. It'd been almost a year in the human realm since Dean came to live here, the year spring came early. He brushed a lock of hair behind Dean's ear, cuddling closer to him, one hand resting on his love's very pregnant belly, feeling the slight movement of their child under his palm. He'd already explained plenty of how things were with fey pregnancy and whatnot to Dean, taking the initiative rather than delaying things and having the poor man find out the hard way, like he had with the wings. He was brought out of his musings when there was a very sharp kick, sharper than any he'd felt in previous times and Dean woke up, groaning. 

“That... can't be right.” Dean hacked once. “What...”

Orrick helped him sit up, rubbing the area between his shoulders. “I think it's time.”

“Oh...oh...” He let out a pained noise. “Knew there was something I forgot to ask about...”

“What was that?” 

“Pain drugs for this -” He bent over, holding his stomach. “Oh shit... shit this hurts -” 

“You think you can walk?” Orrick said just as thunder echoed against the window. “Damn.”

“What? Rain?” 

“Heavy snowfall.” He shook his head. “We won't be able to get out of the house, not in this weather.”

“Fuck.” Dean felt tears prick the corners of his eyes. “I – how...” 

“We can do this, okay?” Orrick took Dean's face in his hands. “I need to know if you can walk.”

“Think so.” With the fey's help, Dean managed to get to his feet and was able to walk a few steps, the pain abating as he became a little more mobile. 

“I don't think we're going to have to wait long.” Orrick kept his arm around the man's waist as they walked the width of the room. “I believe you are right in our daughter having bad timing.”

“Do you know how to deliver a baby?” Dean knew it was a lousy time to be asking such a question, but really, what else could he do?

“It's not that complicated Dean, not when there's minimal risk involved.” He guided Dean to a chair and had him sit. “You think you can stay here for a few minutes while I get some things we're going to need?”

Dean nodded, holding onto his stomach and taking a few deep breaths. “Pain.. isn't so bad right now.” He glanced up at Orrick. “Still not as bad as the time I got that compound fracture...”

Orrick gave him a swift kiss on the top of the head. “Be back before you know it. Just stay put.” He glanced at Dean's belly. “Both of you.” He hurried into the bathroom and turned on the water in the tub, filling it with warm water. He shot a glance at Dean, who was leaning over in his chair, breathing through another contraction and he ran from the room to the nursery to get a few more things he needed, such as a blanket and few assorted potions. He set these on a stool in the bathroom and returned to Dean. “All right now...” He put one arm under the man's, pulling him to a stand. “Just need to walk a little ways.”

“Bathroom?” Dean blinked in confusion. “I don't get it...”

“It's the easiest and closest place.” He helped his love across the room, and while it most likely only took five minutes, seemed to take five hours to Orrick. He turned the water off and, after testing it with his hand, went to help Dean undress. “Just remember to breathe.”

Dean nodded and lowered himself into the water, groaning slightly as he settled himself against the back of the tub, resting his hands on his stomach. “How could it get so painful so fast?”

“I think our little girl is in a bit of a hurry.” He made a bed of towels on the floor next to the tub, and then settled more of them behind Dean's back. “Just...”

“You say remember to breathe one more time and I'm pulling your hair out. All of it.” Dean grasped the side of the tub, whimpering through his next contraction.

**  
John supposed he shouldn't have been surprised when Sam didn't pick up his phone on the second, third and fourth calls. He hadn't left a message, he was far to frustrated and angry with himself. Whatever had taken Dean had to be whatever the hunt was the boy had been on a year ago. The fact that the disappearances stopped after Dean was taken had made John think that the whatever the monster had been, it was dealt with. He started to make a few inquiries around the town where Dean had been staying, asked at the local impound lot about a sixty-seven Impala, all of it coming up empty. He drove to the next nearest town, thirty miles away across flat prairie, thriving corn and wheat-fields, until he got within ten miles of the town and the lush fields were replaced by ones struggling to survive. The alarm bells went off again in his head and he pulled over onto a crossroad. He got out of his truck, stunned.

To his left, back towards the first town, the cornfield was a brilliant green, the silken tops blowing in the breeze, all fresh and healthy. The grass between the road and the barbed wire fence was equally green, with wildflowers that added a wonderful band of color in yellows, oranges, purples and reds. He looked to his right, the contrast so sharp, it was painful. The cornfield was a sickly yellow-green, suffering not from want of water, but of too much. The grass lay flat and partially sunken on that side of the road and as John looked across to the other side of the highway, he could see it continued onward towards the horizon. “And this doesn't raise red flags with anyone?” Even a non-hunter would think this was fucked up. He got back into the truck and headed onward, almost shocked by the sudden appearance of sandbags on the side of the road. He drove another mile and then stopped the truck. It was to much to process. John climbed out of the truck and into the bed in the back, looking out at an unbelievable sight. 

The Niobrara River spread out in front of him – the bridge to cross the river was barely visible from where he was parked. The water was contained, but still lapped at the sandbags, the lulling sound of the water almost made John think he was in the middle of a lake. He swallowed and looked back behind him, where the thriving fields were a band of gold on the horizon. “This makes no sense.” He got down from his vantage point, got back into his truck and turned back towards the town.

Whatever this was – it was definitely something John didn't want to face without serious research.

***

Six hundred miles south of the city Orrick and Dean called home, His Royal Highness Prince Kelsen found himself with a fairly large problem. His sister, Princess Anya, had recently given him the order that despite the fact he already had a son, he still had to get married. The very idea of marriage was horrific to him – not the love and togetherness, that sounded wonderful. But there was the matter of his child. Not many fey alive would be willing to accept a different sire's offspring in their family, no matter what the child in question's lineage was. Kelsen of course, knew that the real matter was that his son, Junta, as the oldest, would automatically inherit the title Kelsen now held. And there was his large problem with getting married.

The last thing his family needed was another bloody coup. 

And Kelsen was not going to sit around and do nothing but have babies. 

The only logical choice, of course, was to ensnare a human. That happened often enough. But the time it would take to condition a mate – it was all one very big pain in the ass. 

“Daddy?” A small tug at his hand caused him to look up from the book he was pretending to read.

“Yes?” 

His son rewarded him with a smile. “Auntie said it snowed in the north. Can we go and see the snow this year?”

Kelsen sat back in his chair and his son immediately climbed into his lap. “I think we might be able to arrange that. The snow will last for a while yet.” 

“Promise?”

He chuckled. “I promise we'll go north to see the snow before it all melts away.” He gave the boy a hug. “We'll have to dress warmly.” 

“I don't mind. We can play in the snow, right daddy?”

“Right.” He hugged his son, brushing his fingers through the boy's hair – that mop of blond curls that Kelsen knew the source of the moment he'd seen them. In that instant, it was all perfectly clear – he would simply retrieve Dean Winchester. It wouldn't be too much longer before Junta started asking where his other parent was and well, why not? 

Dean was the perfect choice – and furthermore, the hunters were bound to notice the pattern he could leave. John Winchester would show up, he'd ask for Dean – and he'd sweeten the pot somehow. The demon they were hunting was long gone, it'd vanished several months ago thanks to Loki. There had to be something he could offer John; or if just Dean showed up, he'd remember what happened between them and come without question. In those few hours they spent together he'd learned just how much that human needed family – and he had a family, a son, who needed him. 

If he was going to bring Dean to him and to this world, then he would just have to undo the memory spell he'd placed on the man and then cast a calling spell. Dean would come to him within a month of his summoning.

Kelsen made a note to himself to get some peaches. Dean _loved_ peaches.

**

Orrick stroked Dean's forehead slowly, watching the man sleep. His face was still flushed, his hair slightly damp. For six hours his beloved had labored to bring their child into the world and he had done beautifully. He looked up from Dean to gaze at the infant girl sleeping in the cradle next to the bed. She looked so small, lying there amid the blankets. They had decided to name their little girl Garnet after Dean's birthstone, or so they told their friends. It was actually the only name the two of them could agree on, as Dean found fae girl names obscure and most human girl names Dean liked Orrick declared were too plain. He pressed a kiss to Dean's temple. “So proud of you, love.” He smiled and looked back over at the little girl. “She's perfect.” As much as he loathed to do it, he rose from the bed. He knew he needed to let the two rest and he had matters around the house to attend to. As he took the soiled towels downstairs, he looked out the large window that overlooked the gardens. It had finally stopped snowing. 

He took the linens to the laundry room and left his own stained garments there as well. He pulled on a robe that was hanging on the door and headed back upstairs, deciding that now that the babe was here, it was time to stop delaying and move Dean down to where he belonged. The nursery was right down the hall from the master bedroom and really, was there any need for them to be so far apart any longer? 

First, he moved Garnet down to the bassinet that he'd placed in his room a few weeks prior and then went back and carried Dean down to his – their – room. He settled the man into the massive bed and kissed his forehead. “What's going on?” Dean murmured, his voice barely audible.

“Nothing, love. Just moved you two some place a little more comfortable.” He stroked his cheek as he pulled the covers up on his love. “You both have had a very trying night and rest is what the two of you need.”

“You need rest too.” Dean struggled to open his eyes, but exhaustion got the better of him and he fell deeper into the pillows and began to snore softly. He gave him another soft kiss before moving off to change his clothes before joining his beloved in the bed. 

**  
Sam Winchester stopped short when he saw the shiny black Impala parked outside of Voodoo Donuts. He glanced at the front plate, rather relieved when it didn't show the familiar KAZ-2Y5, but 'Trukkos' and he frowned. What sort of language was that? He shrugged and was about to head into the store when he noticed something out of the corner of his eye. He squinted and took a step forward, almost positive he was imagining the green army man wedged into the backseat ashtray. It was a trick of the light, that's all.

“Problem there?” A voice said and he turned. A man, a little younger than his dad, stood there. He had sandy- brown hair and hazel eyes. He also had a rather impish look about him.

“Uh... no. I uh, thought this might be my brother's car, but guess I was wrong.” Sam felt rather stupid. Of course there would be more than one '67 Impala left in the country that was in good condition.

“Your brother has good taste if he's got a car like this then.” He adjusted his hold on the box of donuts he was holding. “I'd hurry up if I were you, they're nearly out of the ones with sprinkles.”

“Yeah.” Sam replied, watching the man get into the car. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and headed for the door. Maybe the car had been Dean's and he'd sold it, or something. He really wasn't too worried about his brother anyway. 

Dean was always good at taking care of himself.

**  
A soft whimper rousted Dean from his sleep. The sound seemed to go straight through him and cause his chest to ache. He knew what that cry was – and what he needed to do. Garnet needed to eat. He lifted himself up on his arms, frowning at the unfamiliar surroundings. Orrick had moved him into a different room, one that was much larger than his, and twice as opulent. He rubbed his eyes as the whimpered repeated itself and he struggled to sit up. “Orrick?” 

The fae shifted in the bed next to him, instantly awake. “What?” He blinked a few times and then smiled. “You stay put.” He helped him sit up against the pillows and then got out of bed.

Dean untied the front of his pajama top as Orrick went over to the bassinet and picked up their newborn daughter and brought her over to the bed. It was amazing how instinctual all of this was to him. Even though his transformation into a fae's mate had left him with very small breasts, Dean knew they were heavy with milk for their child. He smiled as Orrick handed him their little girl and he settled her against one of his nipples. The tiny girl rooted for a moment before latching on, and he had the vague memory of her doing the same shortly after her birth.

His eyes were shining as he watched his infant daughter nurse from him. He couldn't believe that such a beautiful child could be his. Dark hair covered her entire head, and her tiny hand flexed against his skin. The very act of nursing – it was an odd sort of feeling, knowing that not only had he been able to carry this perfect little girl, he was also able to nourish her as well. A year ago, such a thing would have terrified him, now – now he couldn't think of it being any other way. “Such a pretty girl.” He leaned back a little against the pillows. He gave Orrick a small smile as he settled into bed next to him, watching the two of them. “I'm sorry you didn't get much sleep.”

“It's all right.” Orrick kissed his temple. “You're the one who needs it more than I do.” He wrapped an arm around him and looked down at their child. “She's a healthy girl – and she's got a good appetite.”

Dean chuckled in response. “I'm... I'm just glad I can feed her... it's...” He frowned. “I don't know how to explain it, exactly.”

“I think I have an idea.” He ran a finger along the baby's cheek. “I don't think you'll ever need to worry about not being able to provide for our children, Dean.” 

He let out a snicker. “Garnet's not a day old and you're already planning another one?” He shook his head. “I think your father can wait until you can at least hold your head up on your own before we discuss making you a big sister.” He switched the girl to his other breast. “And he can wait until you can sit up before we _start_ on making you a big sister.”

Orrick chuckled and kissed his cheek again. “I'm going to go get you something to eat. You need sustenance as well as Garnet.”

“I'm not that hungry.” Dean replied, just as his stomach rumbled.

“Right.” He smiled in response and left for the kitchens.

**  
Kelsen decided that it would be better to go north before looking for Dean Winchester. When he and Junta arrived at Oberon's palace, he was relieved to see that there was still plenty of snow for the child to play in. His sister had actually given him a reason to travel north – thus saving him from coming up with one. Lord Orrick and his mate were presenting their first child at court and since his sister was too busy to attend the event, he was going in her place.

He liked Lord Orrick – he was the sort of fae whom, if given the choice, he wouldn't have objected to an arranged marriage with. He had to wonder if that could have happened, had Orrick not mated with a captured human. He'd never heard the man's name, but he'd heard some fantastic rumors. Some sort of damaged goods, according to guards – not even worth a tumble and release. 

Kelsen had a hard time believing someone as important as Lord Orrick would settle for a sub-par mate. He settled himself onto a bench as Junta and a few other children threw snowballs at each other. Even though he was younger than most of them, his son made a very good effort to keep up, the oldest son of one of Oberon's sisters throwing the balls his son made. He huddled in his heavy wrap, wondering if he ought to suggest they all go in before they catch a chill when he noticed that the group had all stopped and were staring at something.

The sound of bells caused him to turn as a sleigh approached the front of the palace. It was being drawn by two massive Clydesdale horses, their brown coats gleaming and their fetlocks so white, they made the snow look gray. Kelsen swallowed hard as he watched the sleigh – it was strange how a little thing like those horses could remind him that even though he was a prince, Lord Orrick still outranked him in the fae hierarchy. 

After the horses had passed, the spell was apparently broken because the kids were right back to playing. Kelsen waved Junta over. “I have to go inside. You mind the nursemaids and do what they tell you.”

“Yes, daddy.” His son ran back to the group. 

Sighing, Kelsen turned and headed towards the palace. This was going to be an enjoyable afternoon. Fae Naming Ceremonies at court were always grand events – there would be good food, good wine and hopefully, some decent conversation. At least up here, he'd be spared the 'when are you getting married' speech that seemed to be the constant topic at home. Well, he'd be married as soon as he could recapture Junta's father. 

That wouldn't take more than a few months, at the very most. 

He handed his cloak and weather-boots to a servant waiting at the side entrance, taking his court boots from another. After buckling them, he checked his appearance in a mirror and headed down the corridor and reached the rotunda just as Lord Orrick and his mate came into the large foyer below him. Kelsen looked down and saw that the fae was dressed in a dark blue robe trimmed in silver. Next to him, his mate, was dressed in emerald green – he carried the infant, and from here, Kelsen could tell that the blanket was a pale pink.

Straightening his shoulders, he started down the stairs to join the other guests. He was halfway down when he felt his feet freeze in place and his heart dropped. Now that he was closer, he could make out more details of Lord Orrick's mate and it was the _last_ person he expected to see today. 

It was Dean Winchester. 

A sick, bubbling feeling built up in his stomach and he held a hand to his mouth, and he began retreating back up the stairs before he could be sick in front of the guests. This was some kind of nightmare, some kind of wretched, wicked dream and any moment, he was going to wake up in the carriage, still on his way here. He was able to duck into the washroom at the head of one of the corridors and he locked the door, hugging himself.

This was insane – the father of his child was now the fae-mate and mother of Lord Orrick's heir. What was he going to tell his sister? The hell with that, what was he going to tell his son? He took a few deep breaths and looked at himself in the mirror – he was a stark shade of white.

A sharp knock the on the door made him start. “Yes?”

“Prince Kelsen, are you all right?” He didn't recognize the voice – it must be a servant.

“Ye... yes.” He ran some water in the sink and splashed his face and then opened the door. The servant was still there, looking concerned. “I could use a glass of fire-wine.”

“Of course.” The man gave a small bow and then hurried away. 

Kelsen resolved he wasn't going into grand ballroom with a least one glass of wine in his belly.

*  
The naming ceremony was surprisingly quick in Dean's mind. He'd been to other such events and they had seemed to drag on forever. Perhaps it was because this time it was his and Orrick's baby it seemed to move faster. Everyone cooed over Garnet to the point where Dean lost track of how many 'precious' and 'darling' comments he received. For now, however, he was glad to be off sitting in a side room, away from the crowd while his little girl nursed. He looked up when the door opened, feeling relieved when it was Orrick, carrying two plates of food. “That smells good.”

“It should be.” He set the two plates down on the table next to Dean and sat down in the other chair. “Oh it feels good to sit down.” 

He chuckled in response. “Yes, it does.” He glanced back at the door. “I'm still reeling from how elaborate all of this is.”

“Custom and tradition.” Orrick replied, picking up one of the plates and spearing a piece of lobster meat. “I'm just glad Oberon hosts these things.” 

Dean nodded and shifted Garnet to burp her. “I don't think I could stand and smile that long.” He rubbed the infant's back. “I'm also glad there's not a pack of aunties demanding a chance to hold her.”

“There is that.” He stabbed another piece of meat and held it out to his love, smiling when his mouth closed around it. “That almost never happens at these things. Most fae understand the protectiveness of parents.”

“Not to mention I don't think anyone wants a screaming infant on their hands.” Dean replied, settling Garnet against him again. He reached over onto the other plate and picked up a piece of pale yellow cheese.

“That too.” Orrick held out the fork again for him to take another bite of lobster. “I forgot how much I enjoy feeding you.”

Dean chuckled and licked a smear of sauce off of his upper lip. “Perhaps we should do it more often.” He looked down. “I think someone's full.”

His mate laughed. “Here, let me hold her for a while.” He set the plate down and took Garnet out of his arms, settling the infant against him, her face resting on a thick cloth napkin. He'd already made the mistake of not doing that before and ended up having to change clothes. 

Dean adjusted his undergarments before closing his robe and leaned back in his chair. “Can we at least finish eating before we go back out there?”

“Of course.” Orrick reached over and took a piece of cheese from the second plate. “I'm of the opinion that as soon as you get a plate or mouthful of something you want – that's when the last person you want to talk to but have to comes up and takes it from you, or something similar.”

“You mean like the time Queen Titania wanted to discuss some kind of trade regulations in the middle of the Yule Fest and we'd finally found the chocolate?” Dean picked up something from the second plate, the one with cold food on it, without looking.

“Exactly.” He smiled at the memory. “Although I think she took one look at your condition and made her point relatively quickly.”

“If you call fifteen minutes quick.” Dean quipped and bit into his food. The taste of white peach flooded his mouth and he nearly gagged. He _hated_ peaches – all kinds. He couldn't imagine why Orrick would pick up the fruit, knowing he hated them – unless – unless it had accidentally fallen in with the white cheese and he'd not noticed. The rest of the fruit dropped from his hand and he bent over, his hand pressed against his breastbone as he spat the peach out. This taste was horrifyingly familiar – and for some reason, he could taste blood.

“Dean?” He was vaguely aware of Orrick getting to his feet, but that was it – the room began to spin and a moment later, everything went black. 

*  
“It's just a minor allergic reaction.” The healer's face was perfectly calm as she addressed him. Orrick would sincerely like to know how Dean fainting was a minor reaction. “It was most likely aggravated in severity by his hormone levels, due to the fact he recently gave birth.” She gave him a stern look. “He needs rest, a simple diet, and as little stress as possible.”

“I will see that he gets that.” He glanced over at Dean, who was deeply asleep, silently thankful he had been able to send a servant back to his home to retrieve several bottles for Garnet. “I still do not know how that peach got onto the plate. I'm always very careful about that, as Dean hates that fruit. I had no idea he was allergic to it as well.”

“It most likely was dropped from a plate into the cheese, or something similar, as your plates were examined – there were no other pieces of peach on them.” She gave him a nod. “I'll be back to check on him in a little while.”

“Thank you.” Orrick sat down on the bed and took Dean's hand in his, slowly rubbing the back of it. 

Dean flinched in his sleep and murmured something before turning his head and letting out a breath. 

“Dean?”

The sleeping man didn't respond, only made the same face again before speaking. “It's only one day dad, I'll be fine and everyone will be safe.”

Orrick glanced over at the basket where Garnet was sleeping peacefully. He took a breath and set his forehead against Dean's. “Love.” He whispered and closed his eyes, slipping into Dean's dream as easy as he had done back when the nightmares still plagued him.

*

Kelsen had heard that Dean had taken ill and was lying down somewhere in the palace. He knew better than to go looking for him. In truth, he didn't want to go looking. Junta had come in from playing in the snow and after a warm bath and a hot dinner, was quickly settled into bed. At least no one here knew about him and Dean. That at least, was a relief. Although if Junta and Dean were to stand next to each other, anyone could see the resemblance right away. He walked calmly over to the window, folding his arms. It'd started to snow again.

The fact that he was now going to have to find another human – not the one he wanted – was rather irritating. Perhaps he should just go down to the Center like Orrick had. 

Kelsen shuddered at the idea of what could have happened to the man if Dean hadn't been found and saved from there. He most likely would be dead. He ran a hand through his hair and started when the door to his room opened without a knock. “What is it?” He felt his heart drop for the second time today as Lord Orrick came into the room, shutting it quietly behind him. “Good evening, Lord Orrick.”

“Yes, it _is_ a nice evening.” His tone was icy. In that moment, Kelsen knew it was all over. 

“You know.” He swallowed. 

“I do.” He glanced towards the shut door of the bedroom, but only for a moment. “I don't know if I should feel sorry for you or punch you in the face.”

Kelsen stood, his hands clasped behind his back. “I didn't intend to hurt anyone.”

“I'm not angry at you, Prince Kelsen. I know the lengths at what our kind will go to in order to survive at times.” Lord Orrick started to pace. “My anger is at John Winchester for putting him in that position. He was scarcely out of childhood when you met him.”

“In age, perhaps.” He grimaced when he said that. This was Orrick's mate he was talking about.

“True.” He stopped at a chair and gripped the back of it. “Well, I'm not going to do anything unspeakable, like taking your child from you.”

Relief washed over him. As the father, it was in Dean's rights to claim custody. “Thank you.”

“Shut up. I'm not doing it for you, I'm doing it for your son and the sake of my family.” He started to pace once more. “Again, I believe the fault in all of this lies with John Winchester.” 

Kelsen saw anger flash in the older fae's eyes. “Well, nothing would be gained by stealing him out of the earthly realm.”

“I know that.” Orrick paused, looking thoughtful. “What year is now on Earth? I tend to lose track of time.”

“I believe it's nearing the end of two-thousand two.” He frowned – Orrick had the most unusual look on his face. “Why?”

“Nothing to concern yourself with.” His smile faded. “You do know I am going to have to tell Dean about Junta. Or perhaps, it would be better coming from you.”

“That's not exactly an easy thing to do, m'lord.” He sank down into a chair. “I haven't even told Junta who his father is.”

“The healers don't want Dean facing any sort of stress for a while. So perhaps, it is best to put it off for a few days.” Orrick moved to the window and he watched him, unable to read his face from this angle. “I am afraid we must do something a little more severe in terms of John Winchester.”

“What are you suggesting? You can't be thinking of having us snatch Sam Winchester, the boy is rank with the blood of Azazel.” He stood up. “And he's a second born son.”

Orrick snorted. “Samuel is as bad as his father. He failed to concern himself with Dean's disappearance.”

“Then what?” He came over to the window and saw the rather wicked look on Orrick's face.

“Quite simple, my prince. When you return home, tell your sister that you have to wait a little longer before you get married.” He folded his arms, his gray eyes glinting like a steel sword.

“And what if she demands and answer as to why?” 

“It's very simple.” He turned to him. “You need to wait five more years; because currently, your chosen human is still a child.”

“Who the devil are you talking about?” He shook his head. “I don't understand.”

“In five years, John Winchester's youngest son will turn eighteen.” He tilted his head slightly. 

“He's a third born son then.” Kelsen frowned. “But that's....”

“Adam Milligan is his mother's only child.” He replied. “And don't worry about Dean's objections. He was rather angry at his father when he learned that his baby brother wasn't denied many of the innocent joys he and Sam were. He'd also like to get his little brother out of there before John finds a way to, and I quote, 'fuck him up.'” 

“How exactly, am I going to go about all this?” He leaned against the glass. “It does seem rather... diabolical.”

“My prince, there are times when we must act as our nature demands it. Furthermore – once Adam is sixteen, you're well within your rights to start visiting him in dreams.” He turned away and headed for the door. “Perhaps you and Junta could come for lunch this Friday. Dean should be feeling better by then.”

“If he isn't, don't hesitate to send word.” He felt his his shoulders fall in relief. “Good evening, Lord Orrick.”

“Good evening, Prince Kelsen.” Orrick opened the door and left him alone.

For a few moments, he stood there, staring at the closed door. If what the older fae told him was true – then it was only a matter of waiting. Well, he was patient – and thankfully, so was his sister. In the meantime, however, he best check on John Winchester and make sure the man wasn't poking his nose where it didn't belong.

**  
John Winchester woke up in Broken Bow, Nebraska with unclear memories of how and why he was there. The motel room smelled of stale beer, peanut butter and oddly, peach air freshener. He sat for a few moments, trying to put a few things together. He remembered going to look for Dean and not finding him. He tried to talk to Sam – no luck. He shook his head and got out of bed, heading over to the table – and then he remembered.

That nest of vampires. He'd cleaned it out and then had to get out Bethany – fast. He rubbed the back of his neck and headed for the shower. No doubt he'd feel better afterwards. Where did he think Dean was again? He turned on the hot water – his mind still rather muddled. Oh yes – Dean went to Alaska. Well, that was a good place for his son. Dean actually liked the cold and would be able to hunt for years there. 

He was a grown man after all.

John didn't need his help on hunts anymore anyway. He was one less thing to worry about.

**  
It was strange to regain a memory. Dean had woken up with a pounding headache he could only remember having once before. The fact that he'd been to the fae realm when he was eighteen was unsettling. He could remember the hunt, remember all of it – and he remembered Kelsen. He didn't know how much of the fae's story was true now, and perhaps that's what stung the most. Not that the fae had stolen the memory – but that he didn't know if what Kelsen had told him about his situation was true or not. 

Going home had made him feel better almost instantly. Oberon's palace was far too ornate, too formal for his taste. Settled back at home, he could relax far easier than he could elsewhere. The bath helped too. He wrapped a towel around his waist, glancing into the room before emerging from the bathroom and heading into the closet. He had to admit, he was nervous about seeing Kelsen again and meeting Junta. 

He pulled on a soft button-down shirt, remembering to put in the small cups first to prevent any milk from seeping onto the front of his shirt. He then pulled on a pair of gray slacks and looked at himself in the mirror. He definitely didn't look like that nineteen year old boy who had gone with Kelsen a few years ago. His features had become more delicate, his scars were gone and his hair was now in a queue at the base of his neck. He tied a dark green ribbon around the band holding his hair in place, thinking nothing about how girlish it could appear – he'd seen pictures of America's founding fathers with that sort of hairstyle – so girlish wasn't even how it should be referred. 

“Nervous?” Orrick said from behind him and he turned.

“Of course.” He put on his shoes, still feeling rather apprehensive. “I mean, can you blame me?”

“No.” He came over and smoothed down his hair. “I find it odd that the fae who caught you the second time couldn't smell that you had been here before.”

Dean grunted. “That might be because I broke his nose.”

“You did?” Orrick gave him a stunned look as he stood up.

“It was self defense.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Let's go on downstairs – it'll only get worse if we keep putting it off.” Feeling much braver than he looked, he strode out of the dressing room. “Not to mention I think it won't be long before Garnet wants second breakfast.”

In response, Orrick laughed. 

*  
Kelsen heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs, and he looked up from the book he was showing his son. It was a lot easier to face Dean now; it was weird how the absence of court dress made things seem easier. He shut the book and set it aside. “Best manners, Junta.” He whispered and stood up. “Good morning, Lord Orrick, Rytsar Dean.” 

“Good morning, Prince Kelsen.” Orrick replied, his smile was rather strained. “Good morning, Prince Junta.”

“Hello.” The little boy said and then he darted forward, all pretext of manners were gone and Kelsen had to keep himself from drawing in a sharp breath as Junta took Dean's hand and looked up at him. “We've got the same eyes.” 

There was pain in Dean's face – Kelsen could tell. “Yes, yes we do.” He smiled and then he crouched down to the little boy's level. “I'm willing to bet you've got a few girl cousins who wish they had curls like yours.”

“How'd you know?” Junta's face was bright. 

“My brother had curls when he was little.” He replied, ruffling the boy's hair. “He couldn't go a day in school without a girl telling him they wanted them.”

**  
Sam hunched his shoulders against the rain, pulling the hood of his sweatshirt over his forehead, wondering when the rain had started to become a nuisance. He hurried under an overhang and shook his head, watching the rain pour down. It was nearly Christmas and, while the first one away from his family had been good – this second one was proving hard. Maybe it was because all of his friends had already left, and there had been no invitations extended his way to come with. Well, hell – he had to work anyway. 

He leaned back against the building, watching the rain. It was good to just rest for a few moments. He'd talked to Pastor Jim yesterday who told him, strangely, that his father had informed him that Dean had gone to Alaska. 

Sam was convinced that both Pastor Jim and Dad had lost their minds, as Alaska wasn't exactly a hotbed of monsters of any kind. Lack of prey made most supernatural creatures avoid the area. Then again, if Dean was trying to break out of hunting, Alaska was the place to go. His brother probably found some pretty native girl, and they were living in a cabin in the wilderness, living off the land and trading fur or whatever it was they did to make life work. He could see that. Hell, his brother was probably married to the girl and they had cute little baby that he wouldn't get to meet until he graduated from Stanford.

A figure ran towards him in the rain, gripping a broken umbrella. They ducked under the overhang and tossed the useless umbrella into the trash can. “Should have expected it to be crap, it was free.” 

“This rain has to let up eventually.” Sam responded, watching as the girl pulled back the hood of her own sweatshirt. 

“Yeah, but I already had one shower today, I didn't want a second one – at least, not one that was cold.” The girl leaned against the wall next to him. “I'm Madison.”

“Sam.” He gave her a smile. “I'd offer you my jacket, but it's wet.” 

“Well, I appreciate the thought.” She ran a hand through her hair, and she looked him over. “And at least it's not snow or freezing drizzle.”

“If it was either of those, I'd have stayed inside today.” He stuffed his hands into his pockets, letting out a breath. 

“You know, there's a diner up the street.” Madison shifted her backpack. “What do you say we run up there and wait for the rain to end inside there, rather than risk getting sick out here?”

Sam thought for a moment. “Sounds good.” He pulled the hood of his sweatshirt up over his head. “We can run from overhang to overhang on the way.”

“Let's go.” Madison pulled up her own hood and the two of them took off into the rain. 

Sam gave a thought to his brother in Alaska, hoping that he had decent and comfortable shelter from the cold. 

***  
Spring had arrived, bringing it's riot of color and scents with it. Dean sat placidly in the grass, Garnet in his lap, holding herself in an almost sit with the aid of hands. He still held her by the waist, as the infant kept lifting her hand to brush across the grass, giggling as it tickled her palms. She was five months old now, and he had the feeling it wouldn't be long before she was into everything. 

She bore a strong resemblance to Orrick, with the same blue-black hair and the same gray eyes, but her face was clearly his. 

“Here you two are.” Orrick called and Dean turned.

“It's a beautiful day.” He replied as his love came and joined them in the grass. “Besides, we've had two good naps today, and besides, she'll be trying to let herself out the door before we know it.”

He chuckled in response and kissed him on the cheek. “Point.” He smoothed down their daughter's unruly hair. “She also slept straight through the night. That alone deserves some kind of treat.”

“How were things at court today?” Dean asked, shifting his hold on the girl.

“Still playing catch-up with the councils that went on recess for the winter.” Orrick rolled his eyes upward. “Which we wouldn't have to do if they'd read the dispatches they were sent during that time.”

“I have a feeling many of those dispatches ended up as coasters for wine goblets.” He shook his head as Orrick leaned over and picked Garnet up, setting her in his lap. 

“Come here, sweet girl.” He winced as the girl grabbed a handful of his hair and tugged. “And when am I going to remember you're going to do that?”

Dean snorted. “Don't feel bad, she pulls mine too.”

“Yes.” He turned her around so she could face the grass, and instantly, her attention was recaptured by the mass of green. “The difference is, you usually keep yours bound, so she rarely pulls any out.” He shook his head. “I'd have kept my hair in my court knot, but I had a splitting headache.”

“So your head isn't hurting now?” He replied as their girl reached for him, her intent and want clear and he opened his shirt and settled the girl against him to nurse. 

“No.” Orrick brushed a few errant strands of hair out of Dean's face, tucking them behind his ear. “I felt better the instant I found you two.”

He nodded. “You don't think you'll have another one tonight, do you?”

Orrick gave him a wary look. “Depends on how much paperwork I get through after dinner. Why?”

“Oh, no reason...” He turned and gave Orrick his coyest smile. “I was thinking we could work on making Garnet a big sister. But if you're not going to feel well, then...” His words were cut off by the fae kissing him deeply, tugging slightly at his bottom lip with his teeth. 

He pulled a hairsbreadth away, smiling. “If that's your plan for tonight, I may just see how much paperwork I can get done _before_ dinner.”


End file.
